Sorry, this is a really long chapter.
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
It had been several weeks. Alex had just gotten out of the shower when she heard her phone ring. Rapidly pulling on her clothes, she nudged the chair away from the bathroom door. It was there for a good reason; not only did the door not actually lock, but Bobby actually had a bookshelf in the bathroom filled with books. The last thing Alex wanted was for Bobby to burst in without knocking 'cause he needed a stupid book. Alex hurried down to her room and grabbed her phone. "Hello. This be Alex."
"Yep. I know."
Alex grinned. "Hey Dean. What's up?"
"Not much. But, uh, there's this case and we may need you."
"Hm. Tell me what you know. I'll see if I remember." Alex sat down on the bed, combing through her wet hair.
"No, that's not what we need your help on."
"Oh. Then what is it?"
"Sam thinks there's a case at a high school in Indiana. Figured since you're a teenager, you might have some insight into teenage-y things."
"Sure." Alex lowered her voice into a stage whisper. "Anything to get me away from Bobby."
Dean chuckled. "Sure thing. Be there sometime tonight."
"Great."
They hung up, and Alex went to dry her hair.
...
Bobby was downstairs. "You busy?"
"Nope. Dean's coming to get me sometime tonight. He and Sam got a case in a high school and thought I could be helpful."
Bobby grunted. "Well, the Marquis broke down yesterday. Get out there and see what's wrong."
"Bobby. I know nothing about cars."
"You got to learn sometime," he grumbled, but stood up. "Fine. I'll go look at the damn car. Meanwhile, you can find my notes on those shishigas. Blue binder."
"Fine." Alex watched Bobby go outside before she sighed. Not seeing it in the study, she hurried upstairs to look in the book rooms. There were several blue binders stacked against the wall, and she knelt next to them. They were all Bobby's notes. She found the one on shishigas, and carried it back downstairs. She tossed it on the table then went back upstairs.
...
It took her barely half an hour to get packed. All of her clothes easily fit into the bag, as well as most of Dean's shirts and jackets that she had kept. She threw her gun on top before zipping up the duffle.
...
Evening came slowly. Bobby had her reading about werewolves and ghost possessions, and Alex was bored. That's when the knock on the door came. Then footsteps echoed down the hallway. Sam and Dean appeared in the study. Sam was wearing a thick brown coat over a red plaid, and Dean was wearing his leather jacket. "Hey."
"Hey." Alex stood up, stretching her back. "About time."
"Bobby." Sam dipped his head towards the hunter.
"Hey boys." Bobby stood up. "It's about damn time you got here. She's been driving me insane for days with all that pacing and whining."
Alex chuckled lightly, studying shoes.
"Well, we'll take her off your hands for a while," Dean joked. He turned to Alex. "You packed?"
"Yeah. My bag's upstairs." Alex ran up and got it.
When she came back down, the three men were in the kitchen, holding beers. Alex dropped her bag on the ground. "I thought we were leaving."
"We've been driving for six hours. Give us a break." Dean took a long sip of his beer.
Alex walked over to the fridge and pulled out a Coke. "Fine." She cracked it open and took a swig.
...
They left fifteen minutes later. Alex threw her bag in the back seat, and they drove off. "So, a high school case?" Alex asked, leaning over the bench seat.
"Yeah. Sounds like possession." Sam glanced over at her. "Apparently this girl, April, drowned a girl in the toilet at school. She claims she didn't want to, but she couldn't stop herself."
"Hm. Okay. Cool." Alex leaned back in the seat. "Drowned in the toilet. Nasty."
Dean grunted his agreement. "Yeah. It's about a eight hour drive. We'll be there sometime early tomorrow morning. We'll talk with the chick, then go from there."
"Hm." Alex stared out the window. Dean turned on the music, effectively ending the conversation.
...
March 14th, 2009
Fairfax, Illinois
Alex slept a little during the car ride. They arrived in Fairfax, Illinois, sometime around four in the morning, and Dean checked them in. Alex fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. For all she knew, Sam and Dean stayed up.
The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake. "Right, Alex?"
Alex rolled over, looking up at Dean. "What am I agreeing to?" she asked tiredly.
"Get up."
Alex did as he said. She sat up, letting out a huge yawn. "Why?"
"Breakfast."
"Yay." Alex shuffled out of bed, grabbed her bag, and shuffled her way into the bathroom. She changed into jeans and a clean white shirt, and walked back out. "Okay. Breakfast sounds good."
Dean and Sam were already dressed, and Alex looked at the clock. She frowned. "How long have you guys been up?"
"A few hours."
Alex looked at the clock again. It was barely seven. She rolled her eyes and collapsed back on the bed. "It's too early," she groaned. "You have got to be kidding me."
Sam snickered, and Dean just rolled his eyes. "Listen. Either we go eat at a diner, or I'm bringing in breakfast tacos."
Alex pulled herself to her feet. "Let me get me shoes."
...
After breakfast, they swung by the motel. Sam changed into white scrubs, while Dean and Alex stayed in their everyday clothes. Alex, growing cold, grabbed Dean's jacket out of her bag. Then they left. They drove down to the mental hospital where this April girl was being held, and Sam went in. Dean and Alex stayed by the car, waiting.
"See you later." Sam hurried into the building.
"Yep."
"Yep," Alex echoed. She leaned against the car's frame, studying the array of cars in the parking lot before them.
"So," Dean began.
"So," Alex agreed.
"What was that thing Bobby needed your help for?"
Alex shrugged. "Felix and Oscar couldn't figure out what they were hunting in Colorado. Carton joined, and they came to Bobby. Then he called me in. With the five of us, we, well, I, figured out it was Gougou."
Dean scoffed. "A what? Is that even real?"
"Yeah. It's American Indian in origin, described as a giant female who carried people off in her sack -"
"Like Santa. Or, uh, Krampus."
"Sort of . . . didn't you work a case where you thought it was a Krampus?"
"Yep. We almost died."
Alex laughed at his casualness. "Oh, if that's all. But yeah, like Santa. But she eats the people she catches, and disguises herself as a boulder until it's too late. Unless she lives in a river, but since they were hunting her near the Rockies, the boulder was a safe guess."
"Hm. How did you reach this conclusion of a, a Gougou."
"Well, since there was no bodies found, there wasn't any way to look for, you know, an MO, so we turned to the neighbors. There had been reported minor earthquakes during the times of the attacks."
"So, giant moles."
Alex let out an amused breath. "Yeah, that crossed my mind. But then I found the legend of the Gougou, which said that it's footsteps shook the earth each time it hunted. Bobby kind of took it from there."
"Hm. Cool." Dean stuck his hands into his pockets. Their conversation died.
...
About an hour later, Sam came back out. He hurried over to Alex and Dean, who had retired to the inside of the car a while ago. Sam got into the passenger seat.
Dean looked over at him. "So?"
"I think she's telling the truth. I mean, the way she talked about being there mentally but not physically - kind of sounds like demonic possession to me."
"Kind of?"
"She didn't see any black smoke or smell any sulphur."
"Maybe it's not a demon," Dean suggested. "I mean, kids can be vicious."
"Well, I mean, we're already here. We may as well check out the school."
"Right." Dean sounded reluctant. "The school."
"What?" Sam immediately went on the defense.
"Truman High, home of the Bombers."
"What's your point?"
"I mean, we went there for like, a month a million years ago. Why are you so jazzed to be back?"
"I'm not," Sam insisted. "I just think it's worth looking into."
"All right, well, what's our cover? FBI, Homeland Security? Swedish exchange students?"
Alex snickered, and Dean glanced back at her through the mirror, smiling.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I got an idea."
"Ooh. An idea." Dean put the car into drive, and they pulled out into the street. "Mind sharing?"
"Yeah. Once we get back to the motel."
Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't push him.
...
Back at the motel, Sam made a beeline for his laptop. Alex plopped down on the bed, flicking on the tv. She let out a loud sigh. "Bored."
"Shut up."
Alex glanced at Sam. "Sammy," she whined. "Be nice."
"Leave Sam alone." Dean looked up from his laptop, and Alex snorted, but did as he said. She didn't miss the smile that passed between the two hunters.
...
A while later, Sam spoke. "Okay."
"You got a plan?" Dean closed his laptop.
"Yeah. I found a way for us to get in. They're looking for a substitute gym teacher; the other one's will be getting married in Massachusetts."
"Dean." Alex volunteered him.
Dean just grunted. "Okay. And?"
"And that makes you Substitute Coach Jim Roth." Sam spun his laptop so Dean could see. "You graduated at the U of M, top of your class, got a scholarship for football, in which you were one of their best quarterbacks."
Dean snorted. "Great. I'm going to be a gym teacher?"
"Yep."
"And what about you?"
"Well, as of five minutes ago, their janitor, Mr. Hanford, just won a trip to Orlando, Florida." Sam scrolled through something on his page. "And a certain David Koenig, a grad of the University of Phoenix, will be taking his place. Applications all sent, they should be pretty impressed with both our resumes. If we get the job, we start sometime next Monday."
Alex paused, thinking. Today was Wednesday. Right. "And what about me?"
"You're going to school."
Alex blinked. "Obviously."
"I pulled the school records of an Alex Landau from Newtown, Pennsylvania. She's a junior. Now so are you. She's a homeschooler, but as of now, this Alex Landau is transferring to Truman High."
"Wonderful. When do I start?"
"Thursday." Sam tossed her a piece of paper. "That's your electives sheet. Choose the classes you want to take."
Alex took the paper. "Thursday. That's tomorrow."
"I know."
Alex looked from Dean to Sam. "That's tomorrow," she repeated. "How am I suppose to have everything I need by tomorrow?"
Dean shrugged. "You don't need anything."
"Binders, pencils, notebooks, books," Alex counted off the things on her fingers. "Backpack?"
"We'll get you some notebooks and a pencil. You can use Sam's backpack. There. You're set."
Sam voiced his protest. "She can't use my backpack."
"Why not?" You're not using it." Dean motioned to the large black backpack that was currently sitting against the wall.
"My clothes and stuff are in there."
"Put them in the dresser. That's why it's there." Seeing Sam's face, he added, "You're the one who wanted to take this case, and the one who thought Alex would be useful."
Sam frowned. "Fine. Whatever."
Dean walked over to her. "We'll go find your stuff after lunch, okay?"
"Kay." Alex fell back on the bed. She took a closer look at the electives. "Pencil." One hit her in the side. "Ow," she complained. She heard Dean snicker. She sat up, flipping onto her stomach. "What classes do I, or, Alex Landau, have to take?" she asked.
"On the back."
"On the back," Alex repeated. "Naturally." She flipped it over. On the back, Sam had scrawled all requirements for the school. "So, I'm only going to school for a week or so?"
"Until the case is done," Sam said impatiently.
"Kay." Alex flipped the paper back over, filling out her schedule. Then she rolled it up and threw it at Sam. "Here."
Sam looked at it. "Mythology, Latin, Criminology, - Creative Writing?"
Alex shrugged. "I enjoy writing."
Sam just grunted. He glanced down at the paper, then started typing on his laptop. A few minutes later, he nodded. "Okay. That's your new schedule."
"Awesome."
...
After lunch, they drove down to Kmart. Dean led them into through the doors. "Okay," he said. "What do you need?"
Alex looked down at the makeshift list. "I have eight actual classes. So, probably eight notebooks or folders or whatever and some pencils."
Dean nodded. "You got twenty bucks."
Alex just huffed. "Oh, that much?" she muttered dryly.
"I'm going to go see if there's anything we need." Sam excused himself and walked off.
Alex started walking, looking around. Dean followed. "Hey. Over here." Dean motioned to a small row. It was filled with notebooks and other office supplies.
Alex nodded. "Nice." She wandered down the row, looking for the notebooks. She grabbed a small pack of wooden pencils for a buck and a half, and tossed them to Dean. He caught it. Alex stopped by the notebooks. There was a large stack of the one subject notebooks for 1.35 a piece. Folders cost over two buck a piece. There were also some five subject notebooks for 6.99. Alex quickly weighed her choices. She picked out two of the five subject notebooks. "Here," she said. "This way I only need two of them, and they have folders dividing the different sections. Win-win."
Dean grunted in approval. "Well, that's about sixteen or so bucks there. Anything else you want? Or need?"
"Uh," Alex looked around. "Pens, maybe?"
"We have some in the car." Dean told her. "Anything else?"
"Erasers? The ones on the pencils don't last very long."
"Okay."
Alex grabbed a pack of white erasers for 1.50. "Okay. I think that's all."
"Okay. Let's go find Sam."
"Oh." Alex stopped. "What about a calculator?"
Dean snorted. "Those damn things are expensive. I'm sure the school will have an extra one."
"Oh. Okay."
...
They found Sam with several packages of lighters and some cans of food. He and Dean exchanged a few words, then they headed for the checkout. As the man was scanning their items, Alex tossed in a chocolate bar. Sam didn't notice, but Dean did. He frowned, then grabbed a chocolate bar for himself. He dropped in next to hers. Alex smiled in amusement.
...
Dean drove them back to the motel. Alex tossed her stuff on the bed, sitting down. Dean tossed her her chocolate bar, and she caught it, grunting her thanks.
Sam stacked the cupboards with the food he had boughten, then sat down at the table. He pulled out his laptop, letting out a barely audible sigh.
...
The day came and went. Then it was night. Sam went out sometime around eleven for a drink. Alex and Dean stayed behind. Alex went to sleep.
...
She woke up around three. The light was on, and a quick glance around the room told her Sam wasn't back yet. Dean was laying on the other bed, his mouth twitching. Whimpers fell from his lip, then he sat up, eyes flying open. He looked around wildly. Alex sat up as well, worry creasing her face. "Dean. You okay?"
Dean's gaze locked with hers, and the wild look faded. "Yeah, yeah." He fell back against his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.
Alex leaned back, now wide awake. An idea sparked in her mind, and she batted it back and forth, working up the courage. She glanced over at Dean. He was still staring at the ceiling, blankets pulled tight around him. Alex began quietly.
Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her under your skin then you begin to make it better
She felt Dean's gaze on her, but he said nothing. Alex's voice grew to a more audible level, keeping her eyes focused on her hands.
Hey Jude, don't be afraid, you were made to go out and get her
The minute you let her under your skin then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel afraid, Hey Jude, refrain.
Don't carry the world upon your shoulder.
For well you know that it's the fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little cooler.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na
Hey Jude, don't let me down. You have found her, now go and get her
The minute you let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in, Hey Jude begin.
You're waiting for someone to preform with.
Her voice was growing more confident, and she glanced over at Dean, a small, lopsided smile across her lips.
Well don't you know that it's just you?
Hey Jude, you'll do.
The movement you need is on your shoulder.
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na.
She slowly trailed off, breaking her gaze away from Dean's. For several seconds he said nothing. Then he let out a breath. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"Yeah, no problem. Nightmare, huh?"
"Yeah." Dean closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah."
Alex closed her eyes and fell asleep.
...
She slept well that night, her dreams zombie-free. Then, someone was shaking her awake. She tiredly kicked at whatever it was. There was a pained grunt, telling her she had caught whoever it was in the stomach. "Get up," Dean grumbled, literally lifting her out of bed. Then he dropped her again.
Alex sat up. "What?"
"Time for school. Get ready."
Alex looked at the clock. 7:15. She yawned. "Whatever." She pulled herself out of bed and got dressed, taking a quick shower beforehand. She pulled on dark jeans, a black shirt, and a long sleeve light-blue-and-white plaid shirt. Then she reentered the room. Dean was dressed as well, and so was Sam. "Sam," she yawned. "Is your bag empty?"
"Yeah, should be. Just check again, okay?"
"Hm-hmm." Alex did just that. He was correct; it was empty. She tossed her two notebooks and other school supplies inside. Then she grabbed her necklace and slipped it over her head. "So. Breakfast?"
"On the counter."
Alex walked over and frowned. "That's last night's ravioli."
"Yep."
Alex bit back a retort, but her stomach was growling. So she ate it. "May as well throw in a beer with that," she muttered.
Sam snorted in slight amusement. "Oh, and Alex." He cleared his throat. "I signed you up for the ACT. This case is probably gonna last for a month, and you - well, Alex Landau - needs to take it, so . . ."
Alex frowned slightly, then shrugged. "Okay. When is it?"
"Couple weekends. Just at the college a few miles out."
"Uh, okay. Thanks." Alex turned back to her breakfast. "Didn't think we were sticking around that long."
...
When Alex finished, she glanced at the clock. 7:39. Dean tossed her Sam's backpack. She caught it, then grabbed one of Dean's brown jackets off of the floor. It was one of the few that fit her decently well. Then they headed out the doors.
...
They pulled into the Truman High parking lot five minutes later. Dean parked the Impala and looked up at the school, eyes distant. Alex lightly bumped him with her shoulder. "You okay?"
Dean scoffed. "Of course." He turned to Alex. "Uh, about last night."
"Yeah." Alex lowered her gaze to her hands.
"My, my mom used to sing that to me every night."
"I know. I, I . . . sorry."
"It's fine. It, uh, it kind of helped." There was several seconds of silence, and Alex got out of the car. Dean looked over at her, a smile on his face. "Go get 'em, tiger."
Alex smiled back nervously. "Yeah, whatever."
Dean noticed. "You'll be fine. Just-"
"-find the office." Alex nodded. "Yeah, I heard you the first ten times. You picking me up?"
"Yeah. Me or Sammy. Probably me."
"Okay." Alex slung her backpack over her shoulder and stepped towards the school. She reached the steps, she glanced back at Dean. He waved. Alex waved back, and watched him get into the car and drive off. Then she hurried up the steps and into the building.
She slowly wandered down the quickly filling halls. She was quick to find the school office, and entered.
"Can I help you?"
Alex looked over at a woman sitting behind a desk and blinked. "Yeah. Hey. I'm Alex Landau? Today's my first day."
"Ah, yes. We've been waiting for you. Welcome to Truman High School."
"Thanks."
The woman stood up and handed Alex a folder. "This is your schedule," she explained, opening the folder. "The room numbers are on their also."
Alex looked down at the paper. It looked like the sheet she had filled out yesterday.
"At one o'clock tomorrow," the woman said, "instead of going to math, you can come back here. We're going to give you a placement test so we can see what math class would be the best for you to jump into. I know it's an awkward time for you to jump into a new school curriculum, being it in the middle of the semester, but we'll try to help you fit in the best we can."
"Okay. Awesome."
"And if you're feeling behind in any of your classes, just let us our one of the teachers know. We'll be glad to explain."
"Thanks." The bell rang, and Alex jumped slightly.
"Your locker number is C336, and the combination is on the back of your schedule." The woman looked at her watch. "I'll show you to your first class. You should be able to find your other classes by yourself, but we understand if you're late the first couple days. We won't count those tardies against you. Before gym, come to the office. We'll get your gym clothes and the lock for your locker."
"Ah. Thanks." Alex adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. She followed the woman out into the empty halls. The walls were lined with red lockers, and Alex watched them as they walked by.
"What's your first class?"
"Uh, American Lit, room 325."
"Okay. That would be upstairs. The one hundred rooms are in the lower left wing. Two hundreds are in the right wing. Three hundreds are in the upper left wing, and the four hundred are on the other side of the gym."
"Oh. So there's four hundred classrooms?" Alex was impressed.
"No. There are about eighty or so classrooms. There's 100 through 130 or so, 200 through 230 or so, and on and on."
"Ah." They walked up a flight of stairs, and the woman opened the door to 325. They stepped inside. "Mr. Wyatt?"
A man looked over at them. "Yes?"
"This is Alex."
"Ah. Hello, Alex. I'm Mr. Wyatt." He held out his hand, and Alex shook it, studying him. He was somewhat tall, with neat brown hair and brown eyes.
"Hey."
"Alex is our new student."
"Ah, yes. Find any seat. Today we were just discussing last night's reading of The Scarlet Letter."
"Oh. That's Nathaniel Hawthorne, right? With, uh, Dimmesdale and Hester Prynne." Alex walked over to an empty desk, dropping her backpack on the floor.
"Yes." Mr. Wyatt seemed impressed. "You've read it?"
Alex shrugged. "Yeah, mostly."
"Hm. Did you like it?"
"It was okay. Not my favorite, but it wasn't bad."
"Ah. Very nice."
Alex looked around at the class. "Mm."
"Do you have a copy of the book?"
"No. Sorry."
"That's fine. I have more copies." Mr. Wyatt walked over to the far cabinet and rifled through, pulling out a large book. "Here you go."
Alex took it. "Thank you." She reached into the backpack and pulled out a notebook.
Mr. Wyatt walked back to the front of the room. He leaned against the desk. "Okay. Henry. You were telling us what happened last chapter."
...
Alex partially listened for the next hour or so. Then, Mr. Wyatt told the class to start reading the next three chapters. He walked over to Alex. "Here." He handed her several pieces of paper. "This is the syllabus and the daily reading for this book." He looked down at her notebook. "Do you have a binder?"
Alex shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "I, uh, I only got twenty dollars for school supplies," she admitted. "Besides, we're, uh, I'm not staying very long. A month, at the most."
"Hm. Well, okay. I've had a few students in my career in the same situation. It's tough, always moving around." Mr. Wyatt seemed actually sympathetic. "If you ever want to talk, I'm always here."
"Okay, yeah. Thanks." Alex gently brushed him off.
"Hm. Anyways, hopefully you'll be here long enough to finish the book. There's nothing worse than being unable to finish a book you started."
Alex had to agree.
"You'll be exempt from any quizzes until you catch up. Which I expect you to do. But I understand that you'll have a lot of catching up to do in your other classes as well."
"Yeah. But I'll do what I can."
"That's all I ask." Mr. Wyatt looked at the clock. "You have until 9:30 to start reading. If you have any questions, my email is on the syllabus."
"Thank you." Alex watched him walk away before opening her book. She started to read.
...
The sound of a bell made her look up. "And you're dismissed." Mr. Wyatt barely looked up. Alex stuck her book and notebook back into her backpack and stood up. She slung it over her shoulder and joined the masses as they filed out of the room. The halls were packed, and she slunk through the crowds. She stepped into a less busy corridor and pulled out her schedule. Latin I. 203. That would be downstairs in the other wing. She started off again.
The bell rang as she was walking down the hall. She reached room 203 a few seconds later and stepped in. A young man was talking. He stopped, looking at her.
"Hey. Alex. I'm new."
"Hm. Oh, yeah. I was told you were coming." He motioned to an empty table. "Sit."
"Kay." Alex did as he said. She looked around. This class was very small; only ten or so students.
"Salve," he began. "Exspectata retro."
Hello. Welcome back. His words easily translated in Alex's mind. This class would be easy.
"As you can see, we have a nova discipula, a new student. Alex. Alex, have you ever taken Latin before?"
"No," Alex answered. It was an honest answer; she'd never taken a Latin class. But she knew Latin pretty well from Bobby.
"Okay. Well, we'll start with a quiz. Alex, you don't have to take it."
"It's fine," Alex insisted. "I know a bit of Latin. We'll see how well I do."
...
It turned out she did better than most of the students. She shrugged, slumping embarrassedly down in her seat. "I spent four months with my uncle," she explained quietly. "He works with dead languages. I guess I picked up a bit."
...
After Latin was Mythology in 108. She threw her Latin book in her bag and hurried down the halls. This was one of the classes she was actually excited for. She reached the class with seconds to spare, and introduced herself to the teacher, Mr. Ellington. He was a large man, towering above her. She took a seat in the back.
"Okay, class," Mr. Ellington began. "We have a new student, Alex. Alex. How much do you know about mythology?"
"What kind? Roman, Greek, Chinese, Norse, Native American, Indian, Japanese? I suppose I know a bit about all of it."
"Hm. Hopefully you should be able to jump right in."
"That's my plan."
"Okay. Well, today we will be continuing our reading of Greek Mythology. And don't forget. Next week we start our reports on the Greek and Roman gods and goddesses."
Alex nodded. Sounded easy. She'd just use Sam.
Mr. Ellington gave her a large textbook. As he walked back to the front of the class, she flipped through the pages. It had three large sections on Greek, Roman, and Norse mythology, as well as another section on other various countries and their mythology. She nodded appreciatively. This could be fun.
...
They took the whole class reading the story about how Prometheus had stolen fire from the gods and how he ran. It was interesting, although Bobby had had her read it a long time ago. There was a questionnaire worksheet afterwards, and everyone had to work in groups. A young girl turned around to face Alex. "You want to be my partner?" she asked quietly.
Alex studied her. Probably a sophomore. Brown hair, blue eyes, a thick black and red sweatshirt. She nodded. "Sure."
She let the girl, whose name was Amber, take first stab at most of the questions, politely correcting her when she was wrong, and explaining why the right answer was right. By the end of the worksheet, a nearby group of two had joined with them.
Amber turned in the papers, and Alex leaned back, looking at the clock. 10:50. She sighed.
...
Mythology class was done too soon, and then Alex was off to her study hall. She sat in the back of the class near the window, and pulled out The Scarlet Letter. She read a chapter and a half then put the book away, bored. Her Latin assignment she had finished in class, and she put her head down on her desk. Her mind drifted back to the mythology project next week. Sounded easy, sounded fun. She pulled out her schedule. She smiled. Lunch was next. Then a block class of World History, then gym.
...
Lunch was okay. She sat down at an empty spot next to some people she didn't know. It turns out they weren't to bad. World History was boring. The minute the bell rang, she hurried down the stairs, looking for the familiar Chevy Impala. There it was, coming down the street. She waited for it to pull to a stop, and got in the front seat.
Dean was there. "Well, how was your first day?"
"Eh." Alex dropped her backpack between her legs, slumping against the seat. "Long. Mythology class was cool. Latin was easy. History was boring and long. Lit. was long. We're reading The Scarlet Letter. I killed in gym class. We played basketball."
Dean looked over at her, turning down a road. "Neat. Find anything about the case?"
"Nope. Today's been a bit hectic. There's this chick called Ashley. She's a bitch."
Dean glanced back over at her. "A hot bitch?"
Alex snorted. "Mind out of the gutter, Dean. She ain't legal for another year or so."
"Hm." Dean cranked up the music. Alex began drumming along to Eye of the Tiger.
...
Back at the motel, Alex collapsed on the bed. "How was school?" Sam asked.
"Hell." Alex flipped on the tv. "How about a drink, eh, Dean?"
In response, he tossed her a Coke.
"Not what I meant," Alex shot back lightly. However, she cracked it open and took a sip.
...
The next day wasn't much better. But she did have gym. Before class, she went to the office, and they gave her a small white t-shirt that said 'Truman High', and a pair of red shorts. Then they sent her off to gym with a note. She changed, shoved her stuff in her locker, and stepped out into the gym. A woman was there, holding a basketball. She looked up. "You must be Alex."
"Yep." Alex handed her the note, looking down at the red shorts. She had picked a larger pair that hung down to her knees. "That's me."
"You know how to play basketball?"
"You betcha," Alex said with her best Minnesotan accent.
"Good. You're on that team." She pointed to the left group of kids.
Alex walked over there. A tall, blonde, sexy girl looked down at her. "You better not mess this up, bitch," she said quietly.
Alex snorted, immediately disliking her. "Well, aren't you a bundle of laughs." A couple other kids giggled at her remark, but were silenced by the girl. Alex blinked. "Name's Alex. You?"
"Ashely."
"Hm. Wonderful. Nice to meet you."
"Whatever."
The game started. Alex, who had played on the varsity team back at her old school in her old universe, was naturally somewhat good. She tried extra hard just to show up Ashley. People were impressed, if she had to say herself. Since gym was an hour and a half, they actually had time for a full game. The other team won 47-44. Alex had scored almost half the points.
Because of that game, she made quite a few friends, and was apparently now classified as one of those 'sports-y' people.
…
After gym, she changed, grabbed her backpack, and started for the door. A hand on her shoulder stopped her. She turned to see Ashley and her little gang. "What?"
"You think you're so great," Ashley sneered.
"Well, I kind of killed back there," Alex admitted smugly. "Can I go?"
"Well, you know what? You're not that great."
"Those are fighting words," Alex warned. She shrugged Ashley's shoulder off. "Now, good day." She hurried off to lunch.
...
Two weeks passed. Now it was Friday. Sam and Dean had found nothing. They both agreed to give it another ten days. If there was nothing, they'd leave. Alex had mythology, then a double period of biology, followed by a double period of gym and lunch. Afterwards was creative writing, then math - she was placed in trigonometry, - then criminology, and study hall. After school, while she was talking with her friend Caleb, another boy, Derek, walked up to them. "Hey, Cale. Party at my house, don't forget. There'll be chicks there. Hot ones."
Caleb grinned. "Hells yeah. Wouldn't miss it for the world." He looked over at Alex. "Can Alex come?"
Derek followed his gaze. "Uh, yeah. The more the merrier. Haven't see you around."
"I'm new." Alex shifted under the boys gaze. "I'm Alex, by the way."
"Derek." He walked away.
"I'll pick you up, if you want," Caleb suggested.
"I might have a car," Alex said. Even as the words left her mouth, she knew Dean wouldn't let her. "But, I'll uh, I'll text you."
"Yeah, okay."
...
Dean was waiting in the parking lot when Alex stepped outside. She got into the front seat, and Dean drove away.
"So," Alex began after a few minute's silence. "I was invited to a party tonight."
"Hm." Dean looked over at her. "Is there going to be guys there?"
"Uh, yeah."
"I don't know . . ."
"Dean, the only people in my life are guys. I think I can take care of myself -"
"Yeah, but those are high school guys. They're horndogs."
Alex pouted as they pulled into the motel parking lot. "Dean . . ."
Dean said nothing, but turned off the car and got out.
Alex followed him into the motel. "I mean, I don't really want to go, but . . ."
"What's up with her?" Sam looked up from his laptop.
"She was invited to a party. A high school party. With guys and booze."
Sam snorted in amusement, and Alex crossed her arms. "Okay. First of all, I drink anyways. Second, it's just high school guys. I kill people stronger than that. I can fend off some half-drunk dude. But I don't really want to go, okay? I was just telling you."
Dean started to respond, but Sam cut him off. "I think she should go," he said, standing up to approach them.
"What?"
"Sam!" Both Alex and Dean looked over at him, surprised.
"Dean, this was basically your whole high school life. Hell, this is still your life. She'll be fine if she goes to one party. You're always saying you want her to do more normal things. Besides, this could help with the case. The more she knows about these people, the better."
Dean crossed his arms. "Fine. But you're coming back before midnight."
"A curfew? Really?" Alex mimicked him by crossing her arms. "You trust me that much? I'm flattered. But do I really have to go?"
"Yes." Sam shook his head in amusement. "Alex, stay out as late as you want."
"Hm. Okay, Sammy." She glanced up at Dean. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for the car."
"You bet your ass it is." Dean glared at Sam, still cross.
"Okay. I'll just text Caleb. He'll pick me up."
"Woah woah woah. You're going to the party with a boy?"
"Yes. Good job, Dean. Caleb is/ a boy." Alex pulled out her phone and plopped down on the bed.
Can u pick me up? Don't have a car.
Yeah. Can do. Where r u living?
Motel on Highland. Room 14.
K. Will be there around 8. Be ready.
k. See ya.
Alex snapped close her phone. Sam had returned to his laptop, and Dean was drinking a beer. "Caleb will pick me up around eight."
Dean just grunted in acknowledgement.
Alex let out a frustrated noise. "What do you want, Dean? Should I bring my gun? Would that make you feel better?"
"Of course not. Just . . ." Dean trailed off.
...
Ten o'clock came quickly. Alex changed into her nice clothes, which included nice jeans, a white v-neck shirt, and a red plaid. She pulled on her converse, one grey and one maroon. Then she combed her hair back and stepped out of the bathroom. Sam ran an approving eye over her, but Dean just frowned.
"What's the matter, Dean-o?" Alex pouted playfully. "Jealous?" Dean's frown deepened, and Alex sighed. "I promise I won't hook up with anyone, okay? Promise." She shot him a small smile.
"Whatever. And it's not 'Dean' around others. It's Jim." There was a knock at the door, and Dean sprung towards it. He pulled it open, crossing his arms. "Caleb?"
"Yes sir."
Alex grabbed her phone and shoved it in her pocket before hurrying over to the door. "Jimmy," she chastised. "I'll be fine." She grabbed her jacket off of the counter before pushing past him. "I'll be fine," she promised, pulling it on.
"You be careful," Dean warned. "If anyone touches you, I will kill them. I will rip their lungs out."
Caleb stepped back uncertainly, but Alex rolled her eyes, unfazed. "I'll make sure to tell them that. See you later." She walked towards Caleb's car, and Caleb followed.
"Is, uh, is he serious?"
Alex shrugged. "Probably." She got into the front seat as Caleb started the car. They drove off.
...
Fifteen minutes later Caleb pulled up in front of a large house. Several cars were parked on the streets, and, after the car was put into park, Alex got out. She followed Caleb into the house.
The music was loud, and the place was crowded. Alex shifted, already irritated. Whatever reason she had for coming here was quickly forgotten.
"Hey!" Derek walked up to them. "Come on in!" He pulled Caleb into a bro hug, a red solo cup in one hand. "There's beer in the kitchen."
"Great!" Caleb glanced over at Alex. "You ever had beer?"
Alex pulled up her lip slightly. "Yeah. I don't like it. I'll take vodka any day."
Derek grinned. "That's my kind of girl. Vodka's in the punch. Help yourself."
Caleb followed her into the kitchen. "Your dad's cool with you drinking, huh?"
Dad? "Uh, yeah. It's part of the job." When Caleb asked what that meant, she didn't respond.
...
The party was long. Alex leaned against the wall, bored as hell. She sniffed at the punch, the sharp odor still unappealing. It smelled like rubbing alcohol, so she knew it was the cheap stuff. She sighed.
"How many glasses of that have you had?" Jordan, a senior, walked up to her, beer bottle in hand.
Alex shrugged. "Three, maybe four." She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You drunk?"
"Hells yeah!" Jordan stepped closer to her, and Alex held out a hand to stop him. "Come on," he slurred. "You're kinda cute."
"Go away," Alex suggested.
"Why?" Jordan stepped closer, but Alex held her ground.
"Go away," Alex repeated, this time more firmly. She set her glass down - she had had plenty anyways - and crossed her arms.
"Come on." Jordan winked at her. "Derek said the bedrooms were open upstairs. Don't tell me you don't want a piece of this." He stepped back, motioning to his person.
"No thank you," Alex politely declined. She stalked past Jordan to find Caleb.
...
On Monday, Dean dropped her and Sam off. Sam was starting his job as the janitor, and Dean had his gym teacher interview.
...
Lunch came after gym, and she sat with her new friends. Caleb, one of the most popular guys, sat across from her. He was in several of her classes, and was always a source for conversation. Alex watched as Sam walked by, his tall stature making it near impossible to miss him. Suddenly, Ashley plopped down next to her. "Move over, slut." She tried to push Alex aside.
Alex refused to budge. "Sorry. Occupied."
"Leave her alone, Ash." Caleb glared at the girl.
"Shut up, Caleb." Ashely tossed her hair over her back. "Why are you defending her?"
"Because you're a bitch and she's not."
Alex snickered.
Ashely glared at the both of them, then picked up her lunch and stalked off.
"Thanks." Alex tossed him her cookie.
Caleb bit into it, grinning. "No probs. Like I said. She's a bitch."
...
After lunch was World History. Alex barely listened to Mrs. Stevens as she droned on about the war of 1812. Then was criminology: not as interesting as Alex had thought it to be. However, both Caleb and Derek were there. They sat in the back, adding their side comments to make things more amusing. Alex smiled. Study Hall, then home. Then repeat the next day.
That weekend, she took the ACT. It seemed simple, so she was pretty sure she was doing something wrong.
...
It was Tuesday. Dean had gotten the job as the gym teacher and started that morning. Alex didn't have gym today, and sighed at the thought of not being able to see him teach. But tomorrow? That would be fun.
The bell rang a few seconds before she stepped into Health Education. Every time she stepped through that door, she cursed Alex Landau for not taking this fucking class. But the teacher was away, so little was being accomplished.
"You're late."
Alex looked up at the voice. "Oh hell no."
"Watch your language." Dean was leaning against the desk, watching her. "And take a seat."
Alex did so, disgruntled to find the only one open on the far right of the class in the front row. She slid into the chair, dropping her bag on the ground with a huff.
"Now," Dean began. "My name is Mr. Roth. I'm the new sub for Mrs. Boudreaux."
Alex raised her hands. "I thought you were only teaching gym," she hissed.
Dean looked over at her, and blinked. "Change of plans." He turned back to the class. "Any other stupid questions?"
Alex glared out the window angrily.
...
Of course they were in the part of the book about sex. Where else would they be when Dean showed up? "Alright." Dean grabbed the open textbook off of the desk, holding it in one hand. "Sex. Anyone here still a virgin?"
Everyone just looked around. Alex blushed, watching a squirrel in the tree.
"No one? I'm pretty sure at least one of you is lying."
Alex knew Dean was looking at her. She gave no response.
"Anyways. I'm here to make sure you all know how to stay safe and stay . . . uh, not with a kid." Dean cleared his throat. "Now let me tell you. I've had quite a bit of experience."
Alex groaned. There was an hour and a half of this.
Dean was still talking. "Gymnast twins." He whistled. "That was sexy."
A low buzz passed through the classroom. Alex blushed even more, letting out a huff.
"Problem, Alex?"
Alex looked up. "Not at all. Just ignoring you. The usual."
Dean smiled, but quickly hid it. "Well, they'll be a quiz later," he said breezily.
Alex went back to watching the window.
...
An hour and a half later, the bell rang, and the students filed out. Alex grabbed her backpack and jumped up, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Alex."
Alex stopped, waiting as the room emptied. "Can't this wait for the car?" she asked. She thought Dean was going to chew her out for her behavior in his class.
She was wrong. Dean sat back on his desk. "Can you believe this?" he laughed. "They wanted me to teach sex ed." He chuckled again. "They asked me if I had experience. I said yeah."
Alex let out an awkward laugh, blushing. "Great. But I'm pretty sure they didn't just want to telling your own sexual experiences."
"Whatever. Get your things, we're going home."
Alex did as he asked.
...
She stepped into the gymnasium that Wednesday, dressed her in her white shirt and her large red shorts. She joined the other teens who were milling around. That's when Dean stepped out. Alex almost died laughing.
"Everyone in a line," Dean barked. They did as he said. Alex bit her lip, laughter bubbling in her chest. "Is there a problem . . ?"
"Alex."
"Is there a problem, Alex?" Dean repeated.
"No sir. But, uh, Jimmy, you look ridiculous." She studied Dean. He wore a white shirt and tight red shorts that ended an inch or two above his knee. He had high white socks with three red stripes, new white tennis shoes, and a red headband. A whistle hung around his neck.
Dean looked down at his outfit, then back up at Alex. "That's Coach Roth to you."
"Right. Of course. But you still look -"
"Anyways." Dean cut her off with a glare. He walked down the line of kids. "Today, you will have honor of playing one of the greatest games ever invented. A game of skill, ability and cunning." He picked up a red dodgeball that way laying on the floor, studying it. "A game with one, simple rule. Dodge." He suddenly threw the ball into the kid at the end; an underclassman.
The boy, Brian, let out a pained noise, taking several steps back. "Ugh."
Alex couldn't help it. This whole thing was ridiculous, from Dean's outfit to his speech. She laughed.
"Is something funny?" Dean turned back to her.
"No," Alex forced out, taking deep breaths. "Sorry, sir."
"Uh, Substitute Coach Roth," another young boy called Colby began.
"Yes?"
"Mrs. Boudreaux never let us play dodgeball."
"Well, Mrs. B is in Massachusetts getting married, so we're playing."
"But she say it's dangerous."
Dean blew his whistle. "Take a lap."
"But -"
Dean glanced over towards the door. He threw the bag of balls towards them. "Go nuts."
Alex looked behind her to see Sam. The kids scrambled for the balls, and Dean walked over to his brother. Alex followed.
Sam looked amused. "Having fun?"
"The whistle makes me their god."
"Right. Nice shorts."
"That's what I told him," Alex added.
Dean glanced at her. "I'm your teacher. Respect."
Alex rolled her eyes.
Dean turned back to Sam. "Find anything?"
"I've been over the whole school twice. No sign of sulfur."
Dean let out a frustrated breath. "No sulfur, no demon. No demon, no case."
Alex joined in his frustration. "No case? You guys made me go to high school."
"Yeah. Maybe I was wrong."
"Well, it happens to the best of us. I say we hit the road, huh? But not until lunch. It's sloppy joe day."
Alex nodded in agreement. "Gotta stay for that."
"Ow!" Colby ran past them, clutching his nose.
"Good hustle, Colby!" Dean called after him. "Walk it off. And you," he said to Alex. "Back to the game."
Alex did as he said. Caleb threw a ball at Brian. Then he turned, snagging a ball out of the air. "Hey." He bounced the ball to Alex. "Truce?"
Alex nodded. "Watch this." Taking the ball, she threw it across the gym. And hit Dean square in the back. He turned, and his eyes locked with Alex. She shrugged innocently. Several kids snickered. Caleb gave her a high-five.
Dean squared his jaw. "You. After class."
"Yes sir." Alex gave him a mock salute. Even Sam smiled in amusement. He said something, and Dean rolled his eyes.
...
After that, the dodgeball game went without a hitch. Alex didn't win any of them, but it was still fun. Even Dean joined in at one point.
...
Then there was lunch. Dean was sitting at the teacher's table, devouring his food. He hadn't kept her after class; after all, it was sloppy joe time. Alex sat down next to Caleb, picking up the sloppy joe. She licked her lips, hungry. Spending several months with Dean had left her with some of his tastes; including his love for certain foods.
"Move, slut."
Alex rolled her eyes. That had become Ashley's typical greeting to her. She glanced up at her. She was wearing her cheerleader costume. "Slut?" she asked. "Look in the mirror lately?"
Caleb snickered, and some others followed suit.
"Shut up, you bitch." Ashley slapped her hard in the back of the head. The whole lunchroom fell silent.
Alex stood up, slowly turning around. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You think you're so great, walking in here, thinking you own the place. But you don't. You're nothing more than a whining slut."
The word 'slut' echoed around the table.
Ashely continued. "And you know what, I bet you've been sleeping with Coach Roth, haven't you. I've seen the way you two talk. It's obvious."
Alex scratched her forehead frustratedly. "Why do people always . . ." she muttered. She shook her head, returned her gaze to Ashely. "Well, in case you've been wondering, Jimmy is my legal guardian. And no, I've never slept with him. Now, why don't you walk away and leave me alone."
Ashley dropped her tray. Then she punched Alex in the face.
Alex stumbled, and anger flashed in her eyes. "Do that one more time, and I will hit you," she warned.
Ashley punched her again. Alex dodged, then threw a punch into her gut. As Ashley doubled over, Alex caught her with an upper cut to the jaw. Then hands gripped at her arm, pulling her back. "My office, now," Dean growled. He roughly shoved her towards the door.
"She started it," Alex insisted. She watched as another teacher led Ashley away. Then she was out in the hall. "Dean! She started it. You saw her!"
"I know. Come on." Dean led her into his office. He had changed into his normal clothes. "What do you think you were doing?"
"What do you mean?" Alex snapped. "It was self defense! She's been doing that all week, Dean."
"Don't call me Dean," Dean whispered fiercely. "It's Coach Roth. And that doesn't give you an excuse to hit her!"
"Are you serious?"
"Yes I'm serious! You were suppose to be working a case, Alex. Not picking fights with cheerleaders."
"I told you! I'm not the one looking for a fight."
Dean let out a frustrated noise, sitting down on his desk. "Just . . . it doesn't matter, okay? Lunch is over. Let's just get out of here."
Then Sam burst through the door. "There you are."
"Hey. Sammy. Ready to go?"
"Nope. Turns out there's something to this case after all." He glanced at Alex. "Next period has been replaced by a nonviolence assembly. Get going."
Alex snorted. "Are you kidding? I'm not going."
"You just punched a cheerleader," Dean snapped.
"She punched me first."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You punched a cheerleader?"
"She called me a whining slut. Then she hit me!"
"Oh. Anyways. I was there when the kid shoved the guy's fist into the blender."
"What?" Dean stood up, interested.
"Yeah. But there was ectoplasm coming out of his ear."
Sam was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Mr. Roth," a young woman stuck her head in the door. "Principal Jonson has called a school wide assembly."
"Oh." Dean glanced at his brother. "I'll be right there."
The woman nodded and left.
"Uh, I should go," Dean said. "We'll slip out after a few minutes. We'll meet you in the B hallway, okay?"
"Yeah. I'll go check out the classroom."
"Okay." Dean led Alex out of his office.
They walked down to the gym, where the bleachers had been pulled out. Alex leaned against the wall next to the door. Dean and Sam followed suit. The principal was in the middle of the gym. Alex half listened, waiting for Dean's signal to leave.
Finally, he leaned over to her. "Give me five minute head start. I'm going to go see if there were any death's on campus. I'll meet up with you."
Alex nodded. She crossed her arms, listening to the Principal tell them that shoving a guy's fist into a blender was not the way do deal with their anger. She gave up and left.
She hurried down the halls, keeping her footsteps as silent as possible. The hallways were empty, and she made good time. She reached the B hallway within minutes. Sam was there, waiting. "Where's Dean?"
"Dunno. Said he was going to check something." Footsteps echoed down the hall, and Alex turned. "Ah. Speak of the devil."
Dean walked up next to them. "Come on." He lead them down the hall.
"How's the nonviolence assembly going?" Sam asked.
Alex opened her mouth, but Dean answered first. "Apparently shoving a kid's arm into a Cuisinart is not 'a healthy display of anger.' So this kid had ectoplasm leaking out his ear?"
"Which only comes from a seriously pissed-off spirit. It's got to be -"
"Ghost possession." Alex finished. "I was just reading about this when you picked me up at Bobby's."
"Yeah." Sam nodded in agreement.
"But that's pretty rare," Dean countered.
"Yeah, but it happens. I mean, they get angry enough, then can take control of a person's body."
"Alright, so what, we got a ghost in the building?"
"Yeah, but where?" Sam looked as confused as Dean. "I mean, there's no EMF."
"There doesn't have to be," Alex cut in, glad to know something on the topic. "I mean, I was just reading about this. The EMF is only where the ghost is tied to. But some possessing ghosts can literally ride a person from where they're tied to to basically . . . wherever. When they're expelled, they're just pulled back to that place."
Sam studied her. "Yeah. She's right."
Dean frowned. "But I already got a list of the people who died on campus. Oh, and FYI," he added with a grin, "three of the cheerleaders are legal. Guess which ones -"
"Dude. No." Alex cut him off.
Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother, shaking his head in amusement and annoyance. He shifted the subject back to the ghost at hand. "So, did anyone actually die here?"
"Yeah. One person. A suicide back in '98." Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. He smoothed it out on a jean-clad thigh. "Barry Cook." He looked up at his brother. "What?"
Sam's face was one of shock and despair. "I knew him. How did he die?"
"He slit his wrists in the first floor girls' bathroom."
"That's where-"
"Right where the chick got swirlied, exactly. So what? Maybe this ghost's possessing nerds?"
"And using them to go after bullies." Sam nodded in understanding.
"So, does that sound like Barry's M.O.?"
"Barry had a hard time." Sam's eyes grew distant.
Alex and Dean exchanged glances. "But there's no EMF," Alex prompted. "So, he can't be haunting the school."
"Listen. This is kind of the best shot we got, okay?" Dean's eyes flickered over his brother before returning to Alex. "And the sooner we stop this, the better."
"Unless we waste time on this," Alex insisted. Dean shot her a warning glance, and she fell into silence.
"Listen. After . . . this, we'll go see where he's buried, okay? Then we'll take care of this for good." He turned to Alex. "You, uh, want to go back to that assembly?"
"Hell no."
"Okay." Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. "We got what, an hour, hour and a half?" He sighed. "Let's quit school for the day, okay? Come on, Sam."
They left and went back to the motel.
...
Alex sat at the desk, her mythology textbook to her left, Sam's computer to her right. "Hey, Sam."
"What?"
"So, I got to do this report on, uh, Zeus. Think you can help?"
"You know once we burn his bones we're hitting the road." However, Sam got up and walked over to her. "Let me see."
Alex handed him the rubric. "Here."
Sam snorted. "Please. This is nothing. Move over."
Alex gladly did.
...
Sam finished her project in five minutes. "Thanks Sammy." Alex smiled innocently up at him.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
The door opened, and Dean walked in. "Yo, Sammy. Wanna head down to the coroner's with me? See if we can get Cook's autopsy report?"
"Sure." Sam stood up. "Let me go get dressed."
"Yeah, okay." Dean sat down on the bed as Sam disappeared into the bathroom. Dean turned to Alex. "Hey. Whatcha doing?"
"Uh, homework." Alex glanced over at the older hunter. "Mythology report on Zeus."
"Ah. The lightning thief."
"No. That was Percy Jackson."
Dean raised an eyebrow. "I thought he stole lightning from some guy."
"No. The Lightning Thief is a book. It does include Zeus and Greek gods, though."
"Prometheus stole fire from Zeus and gave it to man," Sam suggested, stepping out of the bathroom. He grabbed his tie out of his drawer, quickly tying it. "Maybe that's what you're thinking of."
"Hm." Dean gave a noncommittal grunt. He got up, grabbed his clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Alex watched him go. "Was he joking?"
Sam shrugged. "Wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't."
Alex laughed.
...
That night, they drove out to the Greenville Cemetery, armed with shovels, salt, kerosene, and matches. Sam handed her a flashlight and a shovel, then followed after Dean. Alex did the same, shining her flashlight over the faded headstones. She headed off to the left, while Sam and Dean went right.
There. Barry Cook. "Guys." Alex motioned them over. She sunk her shovel into the dirt as the Winchesters hurried over.
"Good work," was all Dean said. He started digging alongside her.
...
There was only room for two people to dig at once, so the three of them switched off every couple minutes. Alex was digging with Sam when her shovel hit metal. She and Sam exchanged glances, and Sam quickly scraped away the rest of the dirt and hooked his fingers under the lid. Alex stepped out of the way as he ripped the lid up and away.
Alex grimaced. "Nasty." The body wasn't fully decompose; tendons still clung to the bones, and there was still flesh in several parts.
Dean just grunted. He tossed salt down to Sam, and screwed the cap off of the gas can.
...
They stood there as the bones burned. The night air was chilly, and Alex picked her jacket up off of the ground, pulling it back on. She pulled her hands up into her warm sleeves. Dean noticed, and handed her the salt and gasoline. "Put that back in the trunk," he told her, tossing her the keys.
"Kay." Alex broke into a slow jog. She reached the car in five minutes and quickly put everything away. Then she crawled into the backseat. She yawned, closing her eyes.
A few minutes later there was a knock on the window. Alex looked up, then opened the door. "Here." She handed Dean his keys.
"You were suppose to come back," Dean said mildly. "We thought a ghost got you." He circled around to the other side, getting in to the driver's seat.
Alex waited until he could hear her again. "Trust me," she promised. "If a ghost had gotten me, you would have heard about it."
Sam let out a grunt of agreement. "She would have screamed her ass off," he added.
Alex huffed in indignation. "I don't scream out of my ass," she protested jokingly. Sam shot her a confused look as Dean started the car and drove off.
...
"You alright?" Dean glanced over at his brother.
Sam looked out the window. "Barry was my friend," he finally admitted. "I just burned his bones."
"Well, he's at peace now, Sam. "
Sam continued as if he hadn't heard his brother. "I mean, if Dad had let us stay just a little longer, maybe I could have helped the kid, you know?"
"You read the coroner's report same as me. Barry was on every anxiety drug and antidepressant known to man. School was hell for that kid. His parents split up. He just wanted out. It was tragic, but it wasn't your fault."
Alex hummed in agreement with Dean.
He continued. "And, to tell you the truth, I'm glad we got out of the town. I hated that school."
"It wasn't all bad."
"How can you say that after what happened to you?" Dean shot his brother a glance, and Sam turned to meet his gaze.
"What happened to him?" Alex leaned forward.
"Nothing."
"Bully." Dean turned his head to look at her.
"Eyes on road," Alex told him.
Dean did as she asked. "He got beaten up by some dumb-ass kid."
"It's fine, Dean." Sam sounded exasperated. "Just, forget about it, okay?"
Alex changed the subject. "So, we're done here? No more school? Cause I got your jacket in my locker."
"We'll get your things in the morning," Dean said. "Okay?"
"Okay."
...
Alex slept well that night, and Dean shook her awake around eight. "Ready?"
"Sure." Alex quickly got dressed. "We leaving town?"
"Nah. Might as well stay here for a day or two until we know where we're going next."
"Okay."
"Hey." Sam stood up. "Can I come too?"
"Uh, why?" Dean looked confused.
"I'll explain in the car."
Dean didn't argue, and soon he pulled the car into the high school parking lot. "So? You care to explain?"
Sam shrugged. "I wanted to talk with Mr. Wyatt. He was my Lit teacher back when we went here."
"Yeah, he's one of my teachers," Alex nodded.
You came back here so you could talk to a teacher?" Dean sounded skeptical. He had changed before they had left, and now was wearing a black t-shirt under a green jacket. Under a heavier brown jacket. In other words, the typical layers.
Sam went on the defense. "He's a good guy."
"Well, whatever. Go have your Robin William's 'O captain, my captain" moment. Make it quick."
Alex followed Sam into the school. Her locker was on the way, and she stopped by, grabbing her backpack and throwing whatever she wanted to keep in it. She pulled on Dean's jacket then hurried after Sam.
He was talking to a student. "-third door to the left," he was saying.
"Thanks, Sam." Suddenly, the girl lunged at the hunter, a knife in her hand. She stabbed him in the chest. He fell. "You got tall, Winchester." The girl kicked Sam in the face as Alex rushed towards them, dropping her bag. The girl ignored Alex, reaching for Sam. He suddenly reached up, something in the palm his hand. He forced it into her mouth, and she screamed. Suddenly, a black form was ripped out of her back, disappearing down the hallway at a great speed as if someone were yanking it back. The girl collapsed, and Alex knelt before Sam.
"Sam?" she peeled back his shirt, looking at the wound despite his protests. "You okay?" She stared at the girl. "What the hell?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine." Sam let Alex help him up. "Just, uh, let's get out of here."
Alex helped him towards the door.
...
They drove for five or so minutes before Dean pulled the car off along the wooded road. He got out, pulled the cooler out of the trunk. Sam got out as well, sitting on a log next to the car. Dean handed him a large bottle of whiskey. "Trust me. This will help."
Sam grunted, but took it none the less.
"That ghost is dead!" Dean said angrily, pacing. "I'm gonna rip it's lungs out! Well, you know what I mean . . ." He faltered, and leaned against the trunk, picking up the case folder. Alex joined him on the trunk.
"It knew my name, Dean. My real name. We burned Barry's bones. What the hell?"
"Well, maybe it wasn't Barry."
"Genius." Alex tapped him on the head.
Dean ignored her, moving his head away. "Maybe we missed something. We just got to go back." He flipped through the pages.
"Back?" Alex frowned. "Hell no. School is, well, school is hell."
"No way." Alex was about to respond, but she realized Dean wasn't talking to her. "How did we not see this before?"
"What?"
"Check it out." Dean handed his brother the folder. "Look. Martha Dumptruck, Revenge of the Nerds, Hello Kitty - they all rode the same bus."
"Okay. So maybe the bus is haunted."
"Yeah. Like we said before. The ghost could be riding people into the school." Alex nodded.
"Great," Dean grumbled. "Ghost's getting creative. Just what we need." He reached into the cooler, pulling out a second large bottle of whiskey, flipping it around nonchalantly. He cracked it open and took a sip.
They sat there in silence for a long while. The air grew chilly, and Alex wished she had brought a thicker jacket. She started shivering. Dean noticed. He glanced over at his brother. "You ready?"
"For what?" Sam took a swig of whiskey.
"To check out that bus," Dean snorted. "It's the middle of the day. It's just sitting there."
"Okay."
...
Within ten minutes, Dean was leading the way into the bus in suspect. Sam pulled out the EMF and made his way down to the back of the bus, sawed-off in his hand. The EMF was buzzing, red lights lighting up. "Definitely ain't clean," Sam muttered under his breath.
"Here, ghosty ghosty," Dean called, hitting the metal roof with the barrel of his gun. "Come out come out wherever you are."
Alex huffed in amusement. "Real professional."
Dean just grunted.
"Man, I don't get it." Sam glanced up at them. "No one ever died on a bus, and it's not like there's a body hidden in here."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, "but a flap of skin, a hair, hell, a hangnail - something's got to be tying the ghost to this place. We just got to find it."
Alex grunted. "Something that small? We'll never find it. I say we just burn the whole bus."
Sam chuckled slightly, and Dean paused, considering the idea. Then he shook it off. "We'll see." He walked up to the front of the bus, rifling through the compartments. "Hey."
"What?"
"Got a driving permit, issued three weeks ago."
"Just before the first attack." Sam walked over to his brother. Alex followed.
"Yeah." Dean showed them the permit. The picture was of a grey-haired man, probably around fifty or sixty. "Name of the driver is Dirk McGregor Sr, 39 North Central Avenue."
"McGregor?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I knew his son."
Dean looked up. "Did you know everyone at this school?"
Sam snorted in half-amusement, but said nothing.
Dean sighed, putting the stuff back. "39 North Central Avenue. Let's go." He led them off the bus and bak to the car. They got in. "Okay. Alex, back to the motel for you. Me and Sammy are going to go talk to this McGregor guy."
"Oh. Okay." Alex hid her disappointment. "Cool." She threw her legs across the seat, leaning against the window. Dean pulled out into the street.
...
It was only a few minutes drive. Dean pulled along side the motel. Alex got out, watching them peel away. Her fingers traced the key in her palm, before turning and walking across the parking lot. It didn't surprise her that Dean had basically just dropped her off in the streets.
She unlocked their door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. She hadn't grabbed a thick jacket, and the day had suddenly gotten cold, she was now cold herself. Cramps had been plaguing her all day, and she had started her period that morning. She walked into the bathroom for a warm shower.
...
She thought she heard movement the other room. She paused, then turned off the water, unsure. She didn't think she had been in there that long. However, she quickly dried off and got dressed. She slipped on her undershirt then reached for her t-shirt. "Alex."
Alex jumped, startled. She turned, and a frown creased her face. "Okay. New rule. If I'm in the bathroom, you stay out. Or at least, knock or something."
Castiel stood behind her, eyes studying hers. But all he said was, "Okay." Then he was gone.
Alex pulled on her shirt and stepped out into the main room. Castiel was sitting on the bed. He was watching the tv, which was now on. Every once and a while, he would tap his thigh with his finger, and the channel would change.
Alex sat down beside him, reaching for the remote. "Whatcha doing?"
"I don't know." Castiel turned his head to look at her. "What are you doing?"
"Talking to you." Castiel didn't get the joke, and Alex let it slide. "Forget it. Sam and Dean are talking to some guy. We're on a case. I had to go to school."
"I sense you didn't like that."
"Nah. People are stupid, Cas. There was this one chick who wasn't nice. Every time I saw her she called me a slut."
Castiel hesitated. "I . . . don't think you are a slut."
"Thanks." Alex sighed, studying the tv. Cramps rippled through her, and she fell back against the mattress, clutching her stomach with a groan.
Castiel noticed. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Alex hissed. "Just cramps. On my period."
It took Castiel a moment to understand. "Oh. I didn't realize it hurt that badly."
Alex looked up at him. "Imagine someone stabbing you in the stomach every few minutes."
Castiel reached over, knocking her hands out of the way. He ran his hand under her shirt and over her skin. The pain disappeared, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said. "So. Castiel. Why are you here?"
"I was in the area." Castiel tapped his thigh again, and the channel changed.
"Here." Alex held out the remote. "This is how us lowly humans change the channel." She demonstrated by changing the channel back to Disney. "It also controls the volume. We call it a remote."
"I know what a remote is." However, Castiel did not seem irritated. He turned his attention back to the tv, and Alex reached behind him for her journal. She couldn't reach it, so she shifted, bringing her legs up onto the bed. She grabbed it, then leaned her back against Castiel's shoulder, using it as a backrest. He initially flinched, but quickly relaxed. "Is this normally what people do?"
"Nope." Alex flipped through the pages. "Well, I suppose couples might, but we're not . . ." She trailed off, not bothering to finish her sentence. "Your arm is surprisingly comfortable."
"Oh. Thank you."Castiel looked over at her. "What is that?"
"My journal. About cases and such." Alex turned to the page about biembiens. "And creatures."
"Hm. You have beautiful handwriting."
Alex visibly blushed, but ignored it. "Thanks."
"Do you always do your 'o's like that?" Castiel pointed to her handwriting, where every 'o' had a vertical line through it.
Alex shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
...
She awoke the next morning to find the bed next to her empty. She heard the lyrics to Ramble On, and opened her eyes. Dean was over by the small kitchenette, making breakfast, singing Led Zeppelin. Alex sat up, glancing around. Her eyes returned to the eldest hunter. His hair was damp, and he wasn't wearing a shirt. He was missing something else, too. "Dean."
Dean stopped singing and looked over at her. "What?"
"You're not wearing pants."
Dean looked down. Sure enough, he was still in his boxers. He shrugged. "So?"
Alex shook her head. "Whatever. Just, remember to put them on before we leave."
Dean let out a indignant noise, but turned back to his cooking. Sam snorted in amusement.
...
April 24th, 2009
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
Within the day, Alex found herself back at Bobby's. She sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She pushed her way through the door.
"Alex!" Bobby's voice came from the study. "Get over here."
"Yes, oh mighty king," Alex yelled back, dropping her bag on the floor. "Why the hell do you have to be so bossy?" She walked into study and stopped. Bobby was there, but so was Sheriff Mils. "Oh. Hey." Alex flopped down on the couch. "Uh, what's going on?"
"Alex. How are you?" Jody Mils looked over at the teen.
"Uh, okay, I guess. Thanks for asking." Alex pulled herself into a sitting position. "What are you doing here?"
"I was checking up on you. To be blunt, I don't trust Bobby. And I don't trust him with you." The Sheriff glared at the older hunter, who let out an annoyed huff.
"You're worrying over nothing," Bobby grumbled. "Look. She's totally fine."
Alex grunted in agreement.
"Where were you?" Sheriff Mils turned to Alex.
Alex shrugged nonchalantly. "With friends."
"You haven't been around in a month."
"We've been busy." Alex glanced over at the fridge. "You guys want a drink? Bobby?"
"Uh, no thanks, girl."
"Okay." Alex shrugged again, pulling her legs up onto the couch.
Mils looked around. "The place is looking better. Less like a pigsty, more like a house."
Bobby visibly bristled, but Alex shot him a warning look. "Thanks," she said. "He's been making an effort to make me at home."
"Hm." The Sheriff looked over at Alex. "How old are you?"
"Uh, like eighteen?"
"Oh. I learned you haven't been going to school."
"Nope." Alex shot a quick glance at Bobby. "Might get a GED, might not."
"You know, you won't be able to get a good job without one."
Alex glanced over at Bobby again, this time catching his eye. She shrugged once again. "We'll see."
The Sheriff stood up. "I should be going."
"Okay." Bobby stood up from behind the desk, seeing her out. When she was gone he returned. "Good riddance," he grumbled. "How about that drink?"
Alex huffed. "Get it yourself." She watched him disappear into the kitchen. She sighed.